Casual Conversation
by LeoN WiNgsteiN
Summary: Oneshot of Steve and Natasha kidding with each other while on a mission.


_Prompt: Friendly Steve/Nastasha, with the phrase "This isn't exactly what I had in mind."_

"I told you, Nat, I know how to use the internet. It's not that hard."

"Steve," she said, making eye contact with him before turning back to her work, yanking the grate off of the ventilation shaft. They stood on the top of a moderately high building. "That's what they all say at the web-learning seminars they hold at the adult center. Some old lady renamed her browser icon 'veteran's day haircuts' trying to Google it."

"I know how to use the internet, and I don't need to take lessons on the web from the Black Widow." Steve pressed the button on his comm device in his helmet. "Is this working?"

Natasha pressed the button on her own device and slid, feet first, into the shaft, bracing herself in it with her arms and legs. "Good," she said, her voice coming in clear to his ear. "Then which dating site do you like? Christian Mingle?"

"Is that what this is about?" he asked, securing his shield in its holster on his back. He leapt off the side of the building, only to crash in through the window on the top floor in one smooth action. He tucked and rolled to avoid glass damage and readied his shield. "I don't want to do that—"

"What about OurTime? More your style?"

"That's not what I meant." Steve thrust his shield just below the ribcage of an armed guard, spun, and knocked him on the back of the head with his elbow.

"I know what you meant," said Natasha. "I was just teasing. I'm cutting the lights." She stood in a utility room on the interior of the floor, nearby the stairs. She used a small hunting knife with a rubber grip to take out a few wires. The power to the entire floor went out, leaving both her and the Captain in darkness. "What, then?"

"I guess I just want to do things more traditionally," said Steve, knocking another guard into a wall. He made an indent, and slid to the floor. His flashlight rolled from his hand, illuminating the hallway in front of Steve.

"Traditionally?" asked Natasha, working down a hallway from the memory of a floor plan. "What, laundry with Sharon from across the hall?"

"Hey! How'd you—"

"Fury had surveillance, remember?" She ducked through a doorway. "Did you not think he'd want me to go over the tapes from the night he was shot?"

"Yeah, whatever," said Steve, knocking the heads of two guards together and pushing them away from the office doors.

"Ask her for a date, you big dummy," said Natasha as she evened out her breathing. "By the way, I'm in position."

"Fine, I will," said Steve. "I'm in position, too. On three. One, two, three!"

The two of them burst into the room from different entrances: he from the front and she from the back room where Kingpin liked to bring his "special girls," as he liked to refer to them. "Kingpin!" Steve shouted. "Put your hands up, and make this easy on both of us."

"Um, actually," came a familiar voice. "He's not going to be able to do that. He's a bit tied up at the moment." Black Widow pulled out a small Maglite and swung its beam across the room, first at Kingpin, who was wrapped and gagged by a tight cocoon of webbing, and then to Spider-Man, who shielded his masked face from the light.

"This isn't exactly what I had in mind," said Steve.

"Sorry," said Spider-Man, coming down from his crouch on the desk to stand in front of the two agents. "I just finished up here when you cut the power. I couldn't call ahead to let you know. Or, if we could have collabed, that would have been so cool, but…"

Natasha sighed and rolled her eyes, shutting off the flashlight. Steve smiled. "Thanks, Pete, we appreciate it." He went to the window and opened the curtains that covered the wide plate glass window, letting the lights of the city night seep into the room. "Next time, some warning." Kingpin groaned and struggled against his web-restraints. His grunting stopped when Natasha sedated him.

"Well," she said, capping the needle and slipping it into a pouch on her belt. "It looks like your whole night's cleared up, Cap. Why don't you go home and call Sharon for some laundry. I'll take it from here."


End file.
